In the Museum of the Botanic Gardens at Kew, are pipes and stems carved out of boxwood, as used in Sweden; also pipe-bowls of pine and other woods made by the native Indians near Sitka in North-West America, and brought home from a late expedition. The latter are rude, but quite equal in elegance to many which adorn the windows of fancy tobacconists and cigar divans in this metropolis of the civilized world. From a schism in tobacco-pipes, Knickerbocker dates the rise of parties in the Niew Nederlandts. “The rich and self-important burghers, who had made their fortunes, and could afford to be lazy, adhered to the ancient fashion, and formed a kind of aristocracy, known as the _Long-pipes_; while the lower order, adopting the reform of William Kieft, as more convenient in their handicraft employments, were branded with the plebeian name of _Short-pipes_.” Who may be considered as the founder of the English Short-pipe school, is more difficult to determine; it is nevertheless, of late years, a very popular one, and considerably outnumbers the aristocracy of Long-pipes. The variety of these instruments is almost infinite. There are all kinds of short clays, cutties, St. Omer, Gambier, meerschaum washed, coloured clay, and fancy clay of all shapes, grotesque, uncouth, stupid, and in some instances graceful. Pipes also of wood, of black ebony, green ebony, brier-root—whatever that may be—cherry-root, tulip-wood, rosewood, &c. Glass pipes, with reservoirs and without, smokers’ friends, and, if we may judge from their size, tobacconists’ friends; meerschaum bowls, massa bowls, porcelain bowls, clay bowls, of uncouth and monstrous heads, with eyes of glass and enamelled teeth, together with short stems and mounts for broken clays. Add to these, one knows not how many kinds of tobacco-pots, from a smiling damsel in all the glories of crinoline, to the dissevered head of Poor Dog Tray. The windows of retail tobacconists now-a-days more resemble a toy-shop, or a fancy stall from an arcade or bazaar, than the sober-looking windows of a retailer half a century ago. Mr. Frank Fowler informs us that the same tastes have migrated to Australia. “The cutty is of all shapes, sizes, and shades. Some are negro heads, set with rows of very white teeth; some are mermaids, showing their more presentable halves up the front of the bowls, and stowing away their weedy extremities under the stems. Some are Turkish caps, some are Russian skulls, some are houris, some are Empresses of the French, some are Margaret Catchpoles, some are as small as my lady’s thimble, others as large as an old Chelsea tea-cup. Everybody has one, from the little pinafore schoolboy, who has renounced his hardbake for his Hardham’s, to the old veteran who came out with the second batch of convicts, and remembers George Barrington’s prologue. Clergymen get up their sermons over the pipe; members of parliament walk the verandah of the Sydney House of